


Untitled Goose Hunt

by mannybothans



Category: Supernatural, Untitled Goose Game
Genre: Alternate Universe - Untitled Goose Game Fusion, Cannon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, F/M, Penis In Vagina Sex, Shy Sam Winchester, Smut, Ugg - Freeform, Vaginal Fingering, Witchcraft, and succeeds because why wouldn't he, asshole goose, but dean is henceforth known as goose-fucker, crack!fic, garth tries to be a match maker, hunter reader, no beastiality, peace was never an option, person-to-animal magic, porn with a microscopic plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 17:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21323734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mannybothans/pseuds/mannybothans
Summary: this fic is finally complete/re-uploaded. if you haven't played Untitled Goose Game, you should. I own nothing from UGG or SPN.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Untitled Goose Hunt

“I thought we were supposed to be meeting someone here,” Sam trailed off, looking at the empty motel lot. “Are you sure this is the right place?” He cast a glance at Dean, who scowled and rolled his eyes for the thirtieth time since early that morning. He steered the Impala neatly into a space.

“Yes, Samantha. I’m positive this is the only King’s Inn motel in town.”

Sam just shook his head and opened the door, unfolding himself out of the car with practiced ease. “I’ll go check us in. Maybe the other hunter got a head start.” He did a sweep of the surroundings in his peripherals and noted that they were definitely the only two people checked into the motel. Housekeeping wasn’t even around, which was unusual for the early afternoon.

“I want a corner room!” Dean called out, also noting a distinct lack of activity.

Sam let the office door shut behind him without a backwards glance. Dean huffed and pulled out his phone; he opened his messages, glancing through them to see if he’d missed anything. Garth had definitely said he was sending someone with intimate knowledge of witches and witchcraft on this case. And yet it seemed like Dean and Sam were definitely on their own. Something felt off, but Dean pushed that sense of foreboding aside.

Moments later, Sam emerged with a hair toss and a key packet as he slipped his wallet into his jeans. “Corner room, princess,” he said cheekily as he slid back into the passenger seat.

“Bite me,” Dean grumbled. If there was no third on this case to mitigate how irritated he’d been with Sam lately, Dean would need to find a bar. Like, soon.

***

“It’s definitely witchcraft,” Sam sighed, pulling the hex bag out of his suit jacket. “But nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he murmured as he looked over the contents.

“Sure would be nice if we had a witchcraft expert on-hand,” Dean uttered. He’d texted Garth once they were inside the most recent victims’ house and so far, radio silence.

He started the car and put her in the direction of the motel, knowing Sam would need to do some extensive research. A few houses down, a white goose clambered into the street, honking wildly. Dean slammed on his breaks and honked right back at it, much to Sam’s amusement. The goose actually looked offended. Dean honked the car again and the goose jumped back, spread its wings, and honked angrily in return. It waddled off to the side of the road, watching as the Impala slowly rolled by, its driver eyeing the bird the entire time. It honked one last time for good measure.

“Dude, that goose seem off to you?” Dean asked after a moment. In his rearview, it watched them drive away.

“It seemed like a goose,” Sam countered. “Ill-tempered and shitty.”

Dean nodded; the white-feathered creature disappeared from sight.

***

Dean rubbed his face as Garth uttered “bawls” for the fifth time. He finally called back, assured the Winchesters the expert had been in town nearly a month before they arrived, and had told him to make that exact motel their rendezvous point.

“Well it’d be great if he checked in with US,” Dean almost yelled, tired of explaining the situation.

“She,” Garth corrected.

“SHE,” Dean yelled. “So now what?”

“Sam, send me what you have, I’ll see what I can find.” Garth swallowed. His contact had been checking in regularly, so why was she avoiding the Winchesters? And if she was handling the case, why did Sam find the hex bag before her? He felt a knot of anxiety grow in his gut. Something was wrong. “Maybe she’s shy,” he said lightly. “I’ll get in touch with her again and see what’s going on.”

"Yeah, sure thing buddy. Send me a picture of her."

Garth agreed and texted the first picture he had of her in his phone. Then he went to call her again. He frowned as the phone went to voicemail once more.

"What? So now we got a missing hunter on our hands all cause she couldn't wait for back-up? Rookie," Dean scoffed while Sam frowned. This case just kept getting messier. "Not to mention, she was our freakin' expert! What do we do now?!"

"Figure it out, Dean," Sam said patiently. "Like we always do. I think I have something about the contents of this hex bag, anyway," he scooted over a little as Dean came around the table and bent over to view the laptop screen. He half-listened to Sam explain the contents and what they were used for, his mind wandering back to the missing hunter and formulating a way to find her. It looked like this case meant the Winchesters had to put their hero capes back on and do some rescuing. It wouldn't be long before the witch made themself known and then they could strike.

***

That evening, they spent their time at local bars, digging up anything about anyone in town. New residents, old residents, people who kept to themselves and people who had no issue making themselves known. Sam even peppered in questions about their fellow hunter, hoping she'd made an impression on somebody but most folks shook their heads. So she'd laid low, then. It probably seemed like a good idea if she hadn't planned on going missing.

The series of grisly murders that had occurred recently meant people were more than willing to talk, even without an inhibition-erasing drug like booze. But it also seemed that everyone had something to say about everyone else - the problems of a small town carried far and wide and everyone knew everyone else's business, unfortunately. Very little of what was said helped Sam and Dean at all.

Exhausted, Dean gave up and focused on his whiskey before he and Sam called it a night.

If he'd been paying more attention, he might have noticed the murmurs of bewilderment at the appearance of a goose inside the pub. He might have even heard it's orange-colored webbed feet pat up to his seat at the bar. He might, had he not been in deep thought and tuning out literally everything around him, have heard the soft jingle of his keys leaving his jacket pocket via goose bill. Instead, he was too wrapped up in lamenting his luck with this case that it all went unnoticed.

Until they went to leave. Half-way across the parking lot, Dean automatically reached for his keys and stopped the instant he patted an empty pocket. His hands patted himself down in a panic as he tried to remember the last place he had them. _You definitely put them in your right jacket pocket_, his brain assured him. _But they aren't there, now_, it observed upon another pat. "Dude," he began. But Sam already knew Dean had lost his keys. His gaze was fixed across the parking lot, squinting as if he wasn't convinced what he was seeing. "My keys are gone. Must've left 'em inside." Dean pivoted, still oblivious to his brother's vexation, and decided to march back into the pub and find his keys.

"No, wait," Sam finally mustered, reaching out to grab Dean's elbow. "Uh, I think I know where they are." He pointed towards the Impala and Dean's heart dropped, thinking he might've left them in the door where anybody could take them and - subsequently - his baby.

Inside the Impala, the goose bent down out of sight once more. Dean's keys were promptly dropped onto the floorboard of the backseat with a triumphant honk. The two brothers inched closer to the car, both instinctively reaching for their guns.

"Sam, I don't see them," Dean muttered. His eyes scanned the ground, the other vehicles, and their surroundings so completely he thought Sam might be going crazy.

"They're in the car, Dean," Sam explained, still pointing his gun at the backseat.

"Wh- how? There's no way," Dean argued, lowering his gun as he peered into his own car. His free hand tried the door handle and found it locked. But then he heard a quiet _hyonk._ The older Winchester's eyes grew wide while his brow furrowed in anger and then his vision confirmed what his ears had heard. The goose popped up, spotted the Winchesters, and gave a resolute _HYONK_. Startled, Dean took a step back and swore. The goose gave another honk, almost as if apologizing for startling him. Dean raised his gun once more, flicking his eyes over his younger brother, who was looking equally concerned. "Somethin' wrong with that goose, man," he reiterated.

Sam nodded, barely taking his eyes off the goose while keeping his gun trained on it. "Should we, I mean, I could shoot it?" The goose inside spread its wings and honked several times in succession, effectively startling Sam and he lowered his gun. "Why do I feel like it can understand us?" Sam asked, watching the goose fold its wings as he lowered his gun and unfold them when he lifted it again.

"I don't know but it needs to get the hell out of my car. How's goose sound for dinner?" Dean inquired, clicking the safety off and gritting his teeth. He wanted that goose dead more than he didn't want to clean goose bits out of his leather seats. But a series of loud, protestful honks met his ears as the goose jumped off the seat and onto the floorboard, hiding from the aim of the guns.

"Dean, wait," Sam stopped him by gently pushing the gun down. He took a deep breath, knowing that his brother was looking at him like he was utterly insane. "Hold on a sec," he urged and tucked his gun away. Both hands raised, he approached the back window, looking for the goose. "We won't hurt you if you just give us back the car. And, er, the keys." He added when Dean cleared his throat. It took a moment before the goose popped back into view. Sam raised his hands more so the bird could see them and the goose sidled closer to the door, sizing up Sam warily. The younger Winchester swallowed hard; thoughts of how eerily human this goose seemed invaded his mind. "I won't hurt you. We - we won't hurt you," Sam assured it. A soft _hjonk_ greeted him as the goose ducked back out of sight.

"That's it, this goose is cooked," Dean muttered, lifting an elbow to smash the driver's side front window.

"Dean! Wait!" Sam exclaimed, reaching out to stop his brother as the goose popped up in the front. It looked from one brother to the other, once again assessing the scene in front of it. A sigh escaped Sam's lips as the goose seemed to look at Sam as if to say, _I thought we trusted each other._ "Just, relax, okay?" He urged Dean and the goose simultaneously. More than a minute passed before the goose made any move toward the driver's side door. It finally bent down and grabbed the door handle in its beak, pulling until the door popped open. Then it scurried back under the seat, fully hidden from sight as Dean yanked the door wide open and grabbed his keys off the seat.

"Fucking goose!! Get outta my fucking car!" He bellowed, his anger finally blooming into an outburst.

An equally angry _HONK_ came from under the front seat and Dean threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Dean, just get in the car. People are starting to stare."

***

"That goose is not staying in our room, Sam."

"Dean, it's harmless."

"Good, then it can stay outside," Dean yelled, suddenly very glad there was nobody else at this motel. He didn't miss the way Sam looked at the goose, tucked under his arm like it was a pet. He also didn't miss the way the goose looked up at Sam like it was having a silent conversation with the taller Winchester. "Oh, for christ's sakes. Just... don't let that thing on my bed. I need a shower." Sam didn't notice when the goose suddenly turned its gaze on Dean as he disappeared into the bathroom. He set the water fowl down and then his brow creased in concern.

"Do geese need water to sleep?" He wondered aloud.

The goose softly _hjenk_ed and shook its head, waddling over between the beds. It grabbed a shirt off the floor and before Sam could say anything about it being Dean's aloud, the goose had made a little nest of it under the shelf on the wall and hunkered down, closing its eyes.

"Well I'll be damned," Sam murmured, a soft smirk tugging at his lips. "Never knew geese were so smart."

The following morning, Sam woke up early and went for a run to prepare his body and mind for a long day of research. The goose followed him to the door and looked up at the tallest Winchester expectantly when Sam opened the door. Curious, Sam opened the door further and the goose padded on out into the low light of dawn, blinking sleepily. The door shut behind them both and Sam watched the goose carefully. After a long moment, the goose finally turned its gaze to him again. "Are you... you gonna run off, now?"

_Hyank._

"Dude, you're talking to a goose," he muttered to himself and put his earbuds in.

_Hyonk._

Sam lifted an eyebrow at the decidedly angry tone the goose had just expressed. He shook his head, determined that he was imagining all of this, and took off for his run. The goose looked around, then waddled around the side of the building into an overgrown grassy lot where it proceed to do Goose Things until Sam returned.

The sun steadily rose higher and finally, Sam returned. The goose had folded up on the walkway under the motel room window, its head tucked neatly beneath one wing. Even more perplexed than he had been, Sam slowly approached the sleeping bird. Sure enough, it lifted its head, gave it a good shake, and opened its eyes to look directly at him. It _hyenk_ed once more, so softly Sam didn't even hear it over his music that was still blaring in his ears.

"Thought you'd be gone by now," Sam mused, earning a louder _honk._ "Well, come on then." He opened the door and the goose waltzed right in, its rear end doing a wiggle that Sam found endearing and comical all at once.

"Did you take that thing on your run? Are y'all like best friends now or something?"

Sam just rolled his eyes. "No, it just was hanging out when I got back. So."

A flap of wings startled both brothers and they reeled back at the suddenness of seeing the goose hop onto the table with all of their research. It started shoving papers aside with its beak and kicking others off. Sam felt his blood pressure rise as he took two long strides and began picking up the mess. "Not cool!" He hissed and that did it for Dean; he began laughing until there were tears in his eyes. Sam sighed. "Shut up, Dean. This was everything we had about the case."

"Not that it was anything helpfu,"

_HYONK._ It interrupted Dean and he reached for his gun, shaking his head.

Sam put out a hand to stop him, clenched his jaw, and looked down at the goose. It stood on a couple pieces of paper, looked up at Sam expectantly, and honked twice for good measure. Tempted to ignore the damn thing, Sam's eyes traveled to the articles the goose stood on. He scanned over them again and when he went to reach for them, the goose hopped aside gently. Maybe he'd missed something the first time he read them? But as he read them again, he shook his head, not seeing anything he could use. "Man, I'm going insane thinking this goose is like, trying to help or something."

"Yeah, you look pretty fucking insane," Dean agreed, looking from Sam to the goose and back again. Sam heard the goose make a noise that sounded like an annoyed 'huff.' He bit back a laugh, shook his head in disbelief of what he was about to do, and opened his laptop while sitting down. He opened the browser, clicked the bookmark for the article in his hands, and sat back. The goose inched closer, looking from the screen to Sam and back again. Sam willed his patience to last and willed Dean to stay silent.

Dean sat on his bed, watching whatever the fuck was happening unfold before him. After what seemed like ten minutes of the goose moving cautiously closer to Sam, it timidly put its foot on the trackpad of his laptop before pulling it back. Sam waited. Several breaths and a very long silence later, the goose did the same action. Sam understood; he scrolled down and moved slow. The goose craned its neck low and stared at the screen. It _HONK_ed when a picture of the most recent victim appeared.

Sam glanced at Dean, wondering how he could've missed it. The goose _HONK_ed again and Sam grunted in displeasure. "I KNOW, I see it," he assured the feathery guest. "I don't get it though, why does this ma..." he trailed off, utterly speechless as the goose bent over his keyboard and began pecking at keys. "Wait, what?! Wait, stop. Do it again," he urged, scrambling for a pen and paper. Dean hurried over, handing him the items in question, his eyes and jaw wide in awe of what was happening.

"Sam is the goose,"

"Spelling it out for us? Yes," Sam nodded, unable to quite process that entire statement. After a few moments, he had a short message from the bird on the table next to him. "I know where the witch is." The Winchesters stared at each other and then Dean grabbed Sam's shoulder and hauled him into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.  
"What the fuck was that?" Dean hissed.

"The goose?!"

"YES THE FUCKING GOOSE, SAMMY," Dean roared, tugging at his hair. His eyes darted to the door and he went back to a whisper. "What the fuck is that thing?"

"A water fowl," Sam replied. The look of sheer anger on Dean's face shook the rest of Sam's sarcasm out of him. "That can apparently spell and understands us."

"That's not a goose, Sam. That's a - a demon! Or, or maybe the witch's familiar! She sent us that goose to spy on us! I knew it. This whole thing is a trap. That goose can't be trusted."

"Dean, chill. Birds are known to be way smarter than humans. Maybe this goose had an owner who taught it... stuff?"

"Like how to read English?!" Dean exploded again.

"Like, well, some birds are very capable of recognizing patterns and it just seems like they can read," Sam said, remembering an article he'd read several years prior. "So maybe it's just that."

Dean opened his mouth to protest further when a sudden series of loud, obnoxious _HYONKs_ ceaselessly filled their motel room. He outwardly winced but yanked the door open, ready to march out and fill that goose with lead. Sam's hand on his chest stopped him, though. "What if it's not a trap, though?"

***

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His gun was loaded with witch-killing bullets, as was Dean's, but there was the third party somewhere around here. He had intended to leave the damn goose in the car but it had exited the car around him in a flurry of feathers and wings flapping, taking off into the bushes near the house. Needless to say, he had no idea if the goose had, indeed, lured them into a trap. It was too late, now.

He heard gun shots, two of them in succession, and rounded the corner towards the sound. The house was huge, old, and looked like it had been abandoned for decades. But they found the basement after catching sight of the goose sprinting off into more bushes. The basement was sprawling, like an unending, underground network of tunnels and rooms meant to capture and confuse.

"Dean?" Sam called after a moment of silence following the gunshots.

"I got 'er, Sam. This way," his brother yelled back.

"I didn't see any survivors," Sam lamented when his eyes went to the limp body on the floor at his brother's feet.

"Me either," Dean sighed. "Let's get outta here."

A soft _hyenk_ came from behind Sam and he turned to find the goose at the end of the hall where he'd come from.

"Uh, Dean, we got company," Sam said quietly, slowly raising his gun.

An irritated _hyank_ greeted him and Sam aimed at the goose, convinced more than ever that this was supposed to have been a trap and maybe that wasn't the witch at Dean's feet, after all. Maybe the goose was the witch the whole time.

It was about then Sam noticed the goose had something vaguely metallic in its beak. Sensing a threat, Sam cocked his gun and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

"What the," Sam uttered as the clatter of the metal object fell to the ground. Dean took several steps forward, his own gun also still drawn. "That's my magazine," Sam exclaimed, starting to panic. He looked up just as the goose disappeared around the corner and Dean took after it before Sam could even blink. On his way after the others, Sam grabbed his magazine and slammed it back into his gun after visually confirming the bullets were still there. He was mere seconds behind his brother, quickly and easily catching up to find Dean standing outside, squinting into the growth and grumbling about having lost sight of it. "Dean I think that's"

"The witch!?" Sam nodded, pursing his lips in frustration. "No shit!"

As if to mock them, somewhere nearby three loud _HYONKs_ sounded and then silence overwhelmed them again. Dean angrily strode in that direction, gun drawn and aimed at anything that moved.

Thirty minutes later, they still hadn't found the damn thing and Dean stormed back to the car to get a "bigger gun" for when he found the damn thing. So, when he wasn't back in a few minutes, Sam's Spidey-Sense began tingling and he made his way back towards the front of the house. He listened for anything suspicious, anything besides his own footsteps. When he got back to the street, Sam saw Dean standing behind the Impala, gun aimed at the open trunk. Giving his brother a questioning glance when Dean lifted his gaze, Sam trained his gun at the trunk and moved towards it.

"What," he began, then he saw a woman who was very nude and very tied up in the trunk, doing her best to preserve her modesty. "Dean what the hell!" He instantly averted his eyes, face flushing hotly when he realized he was staring in surprise.

"Look what I found laying on the ground by the car," Dean explained, arching an eyebrow. He was completely unbothered by the woman's nakedness, though he was also nonplussed by it seeing how much he hated witches. The woman shook her head and whimpered softly through the gag that was tied so messily, some of her short white hair had been caught in the knot. "No ID, nothin. Didn't react to salt, holy water, or silver, though, either." Sam finally managed to bring his eyes up to her face to study her. "Seems like we got our witch," Dean continued, his index finger curling around the trigger.

"Wait, Dean, stop," Sam's eyes went wide and he pulled his phone out to show Dean the picture of the missing hunter. "This is Y/n."

"This is," the other one's eyes went from phone to her and back again. "Oh, whoops," he shrugged sheepishly and lowered his piece. Sam moved forward and gently pulled down her gag.

"Guys, it's really chilly without feathers or clothes," she announced meekly.

Both their jaws hit the ground. "What did you just say? Sam tell me she wasn't the goose," Dean demanded, unable to tear his eyes from her.

"Wha, I mean, you?" Sam asked, focusing on her left ear because she was still very much naked.

"Honk," she replied, an edge of anger in her voice. The younger brother moved quickly then, shedding his over shirt in order to drape it over her.

"Alright, let's find you some clothes," Sam suggested, untying her without touching her skin or letting his eyes wander. She kept herself covered the best she could, wondering if the pinkness of Dean's cheeks was simply a trick of the light as the sun got low in the sky. Sam called Garth, keeping the conversation short and simple: 'we found her, she's safe and alive.' The three of them rode back to the motel in near-silence, the radio playing some forgotten song.

_FORTY-EIGHT HOURS EARLIER_  
_You just got a text from Garth stating that the Winchesters were on their way as back-up. You felt a surge of anxiety within you, mad he'd make that call without letting you know, first. Your pride was now at stake - to have the most famous hunters in the entire country come help your dragging ass and if you failed? Well, no better way to get on their good side than prove you can't do something._

_It was distracting, the thoughts of Sam and Dean Winchester arriving in their classic car that you'd fantasized about more times than you could count. You'd also read some of their books online, which resulted in your drunken confession about how hot Dean must be to Garth one night after a hunt._

_'Oh, he's way more handsome in person,' Garth had grinned unabashedly. 'He's like, indescribably hot.'_

_'Not helping!' You'd exclaimed, swatting his arm lightly and you both had laughed._

_'I could get y'all to meet,' Garth had offered sincerely. 'I mean, it wouldn't be too hard.'_

_'Do not,' you'd warned, feeling hot all over at the prospect of meeting Dean Fucking Winchester. Besides, you didn't think you were really his type, anyway. 'You'd be wasting your breath,' you'd insisted._ _Garth had just shaken his head in disagreement._

_Thoroughly distracted, you shook that memory from your head and focused on the task at-hand. Your car rolled to a stop in front of the abandoned house on the edge of town and you took a deep breath. Hopefully you'd catch the witch off-guard, having laid low while you gathered intel over the last few weeks._

_But she caught you off-guard, instead. Preoccupied by the thought of potentially meeting the Winchesters if you had the guts to stick around after ganking this old bitch, she got the upper hand and cast a spell that turned you into an asshole goose. It was like the reverse of the Swan Princess, but way worse. You tried to scream and all that came out was a horrible 'HYONK' noise that was deafening and panic-inducing all at once. You lifted your arms, trying to get up off the ground, and felt wind resistance you'd never experienced before. Turning your head, you felt your neck bend in places it had never bent before and became more panicked. The honking grew louder and more desperate and then you saw the feathers on what used to be your arms. She caged you, cackling wildly, as you honked and thrashed and tried to bite her. What she hadn't expected was that the intelligence of a human remained in your mind and you broke out of the cage and escaped to relative safety._

NOW  
You sat at the cleared-off table, facing the brothers who sat at the foot of their beds, recounting your story. Sam had found a pair of sweatpants for you and Dean had reluctantly given you his only clean tee shirt; a faded black AC/DC shirt. You'd cleaned up a little bit in the bathroom, getting used to having fingers and toes once more, before taking your seat and starting from the very beginning. You omitted the details that made you seem more than a little obsessed with Dean, of course. You also chose to not disclose how you'd felt afraid for your life and turned on all at once when you woke up bound in the trunk of the Impala. The heat of Dean's stare as he held a gun on you had been almost painful, making your guts feel knotted and warm all at once. It was an experience you should probably talk to somebody about, but there was nobody in the world who would understand how being tied up in the trunk of a car could make your pussy clench.

And you'd never tell him, but Garth was right. God damn, was he right about Dean. You glanced at him maybe once every two minutes, your gaze never lingering more than a split second. His stare was so solid, so sure, so focused, that you felt the weight of it on you.

And Dean - Dean couldn't stop thinking about how soft your skin was under his hands. How you awoke as he'd finished tying you up and how sad you looked when he forced the gag into your mouth. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't looked at you - really looked - when you were tied up and naked before him. He pushed the thought aside; you were a fellow hunter, not a random woman at a bar.

_Still,_ his brain teased. _You've already seen her naked._

“And so you're the famous Winchesters," your voice cut into his thoughts and he cleared his throat, nodding as Sam verbally confirmed the answer. You gave Sam a friendly smile; he was everything you'd expected and then some. Much handsomer than you'd originally thought, the same as his brother. What you really weren't prepared for was the way they looked at you. Sam seemed shyer, less likely to look anywhere except in your eyes - which held a bit of intimacy in itself. Dean openly stared as if to intimidate, letting his eyes wander constantly. Both sets of eyes provided an intense heat you'd never felt before, one that made you want to sublimate in your chair. "You're shorter than I expected," you boldly said and Sam laughed aloud at that, while Dean just smirked.

"If we were any taller, Sammy'd hit his head on every doorframe in America," Dean drawled. "Any other expectations we've not met?" His tone was light, almost playful, but also genuinely curious. It wasn't often they ran into hunters who knew who they were anymore. Or knew who they were and they hadn't met. Your admission intrigued him.

"Remains to be seen," you replied after a moment's thought of how to reply. You weren't sure if Dean was flirting or just being obtuse, thus you answered as vaguely as possible. But when his eyes dropped to your lap, a flush of heat pooled there and you swallowed.

"I think we're almost out of beer," Sam hastily said, noting how you stiffened as Dean blatantly checked you out. The tension in the room was palpable. "I'll go, uh, find some more."

Dean gave his brother a curious look, dragging his brilliant verdant eyes from you as he arched an eyebrow. "We never got any beer."

"Well, then we're definitely out," Sam answered, making his way to the door and picking up Dean's keys off the table next to you.

When the door shut behind him, you immediately wished you'd volunteered to go with him.

"Sorry, my brother can be,"

"Obvious?" You finished for him, earning you a signature smirk.

"Sometimes," Dean shrugged. "So, what other expectations do you have that remain to be seen?" He pressed. He was getting a serious vibe from you, especially when your cheeks darkened at his question.

"I, I don't, I mean," you stammered, unable to return his steady gaze for a moment before you forced yourself to. This was Dean Winchester and yeah, he was intimidating as hell, but you were alone with him. In a motel room. How many more opportunities would you get after this? You took a steadying breath, realizing you could leave an impression on him as That Lady Who Was A Goose or something a bit sexier. "I might've heard rumors of your... proclivities."

"My what?" Dean almost laughed, his eyebrows shooting up at your choice of words. "And what, uh, exactly are my proclivities?" He was genuinely curious - he'd never been with a woman who knew exactly who he was and what he did. The sense of you knowing him while he barely knew anything about you sent a little thrill up his spine.  
  
"Good pie, fast women, and whiskey, mostly," you answered as nonchalantly as you could.

Dean laughed at your answer; seemed like you really did have a good handle on what made him tick. "And what about you? What are your," he paused, his eyes twinkling a little mischeviously, "proclivities?"

You licked your lips and fought against the instinct to bite your lower. "Tall men who know how to tie knots is definitely in my top five," you replied. It was like a light switch, how quickly Dean's disposition changed at your answer. His features seemed to sharpen as he studied you from a few feet away and you knew you had his attention in more than one way. "I also like good pie, fast women, and whiskey," you smirked.

Dean grunted, then stood up and crossed the floor towards the door. Your heart dropped, thinking he was going to ask you to leave. Instead, he grabbed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign and threw it on the outer handle. When he shut the door, he turned his head just enough to look at you over his shoulder. "Am I reading this right or...?"

You stood up on surprisingly sturdy legs, nodded, and Dean moved back over to you in a couple long strides. His hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you to him, his other hand sliding up under the AC/DC shirt and resting warmly on your waist. When your lips met his, your eyes shut and you moaned into his mouth. His tongue found yours as your jaw went lax and you reached up just to cling to his shoulders.

This week was shaping up to be the wildest of your life.

Dean pulled back first, his eyes immediately seeking yours and you managed to stare into them without feeling like you were about to faint. "Well, that's one expectation that you definitely surpassed," you murmured.

"Yeah? Well, I'd like to surpass a few more."

"You don't even know what they are," you couldn't help a grin from spreading across your face, but it was quickly replaced with a sigh of want when he pushed his hips into yours.

"I think I can guess," he said quietly, bending his neck to meet your lips. "But please correct me if I'm wrong," he added after kissing you again for several seconds.

Half of you thought there was no way this could be happening; the other half of you was screaming with joy and telling you not to question it. Your entire body was thrumming as if you were a teenager again, making out with your high school crush. His traps dimpled under your fingertips as your grip on his shoulders tightened. His hand slid back into your hair, powerful and steady his fingers tangled themselves into your locks. A low moan left his throat when you dropped one hand to his crotch and palmed his cock through his jeans.

You pulled away from his lips long enough to nod approvingly. "Yeah that seems about right," you clarified. His lips twitched and eyes darkened and you gave him another squeeze.

"You like to tease, sweetheart?" His voice was low, deep, and dangerous and even if you didn't like to tease, you knew you'd say yes to anything he asked if he kept using that voice. In response, you gave him another squeeze; you felt his fingers curl around your hair and your breath hitched in your throat. "Cause I like to tease," he gritted out.

"I don't think we have time for teasing," you breathed as your eyelids fluttered shut.

"That's a damn shame," Dean tsked, studying your face and wondering how it was you looked so wrecked already. You were panting lightly and he found your lips irresistible, smashing his against yours once more. A newfound sense of urgency overtook him and he angled his hips against yours, turning you so your back was to his bed, and walked you backwards until your calves hit the mattress. "You need to tell me if you want me to stop," he said while his lips were still against yours.

"Don't stop," you sighed, your hands working his belt and jeans open.

"Shit," Dean tucked his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you slide a hand into his open fly and he hissed when your hand wrapped around his cock. "Get on the bed, Y/n," he ordered after you began pumping him slowly in your fist.

You obeyed, putting first one knee on the bed and then the other, whipping off his AC/DC shirt. He followed suit, pushing his jeans and shorts off his hips as he climbed onto the mattress. You reached for him and he readily closed the distance, hands pushing your tits together and kneading them while his tongue captured your nipples one at a time. The only sounds that filled the motel room were your combined heavy breathing and the sound of clothes being shed in haste. Dean roughly tugged down the sweatpants on loan from Sam and you grinned, settling back into the pillows on your back as he tossed them across the room.

"Now that's a sight," Dean grinned back, taking in your nudity again. "So glad you're not the witch," he added, positioning himself between your open thighs.

You expected him to just start fucking into you, time was of the essence after all, but he trailed a hand up your thigh and teased your folds with his fingertips. "Fuck, Dean," you moaned, very aware of how utterly needy you sounded. "Want you to make me cum."

"Oh, sweetheart," he chuckled lightly, his eyes sparkling. "Thought you'd never ask. Been thinking about how you'd look coming all over my cock since you were tied up in the trunk." A gut-punch of pleasure roiled through your limbs and he pushed his index finger into your tight heat with a low groan. "So tight, Y/n," he muttered, working in another finger to scissor you open. Your back arched, driving your hips onto his fingers. "Yeah, baby," he urged quietly. "Fuck my fingers."

"Dean," you whined, gasping for air as he hit your g-spot over and over again. "Dean, fuck."

”C'mon, Y/n," he said lowly and you obeyed, rocking your hips hard onto his fingers and feeling your climax build. "Not yet, don't cum yet," he warned. Slowly, almost regretfully, he withdrew his digits and then lined his cock up at your entrance. "Ready?"

You nodded quickly and locked eyes with him as he pushed into you. The heat and the sting of him stretching you open, filling you, felt so good that your thighs began to quiver. He uttered a low growling moan as he sank deeper and deeper into you, taking his sweet time. Just before he was fully seated, he began circling your clit with the slick-coated fingers he'd used to fuck you. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you and you gasped, your fists closing around the bedsheets. "Oh my god," you groaned when he began rocking his hips, keeping his stroke long and even at first. The combination of his touch and his cock sent you over the edge before you even knew what hit you.

"Oh, fuck," Dean moaned back, his hips moving faster, his thrusts becoming sharper and deeper. "Fuck that feels so good," his eyes snapped shut because the sight of you writhing under him was too much. He'd said he'd wanted to exceed your expectations, not disappoint you. But he also knew he wasn't going to last long with the noises you were making, how you fucked back up onto him, and how your cunt clenched around him so nicely.

"Don't stop," you repeated, trying to commit every visual detail of him to memory. He huffed and then opened his eyes, staring down at the juncture where he was penetrating you. He slowed, his brain suddenly getting the best of him. "What's wrong?" You asked, studying his face and wondering why he suddenly looked so confused.

"I just," his hips stopped and he looked even more bewildered. "I've never, um,"

"Bullshit," you laughed.

"No, I mean, I've done this before," he corrected himself. "But I've never fucked a goose..."

The entire room went silent as his words sank in and he looked at you expectantly - eighty percent of him expected you to shove him off of you and tell him to get lost. But then you started cackling, your entire body shaking with mirth at the utter nonsense of his statement. You knew what he meant, but it still sounded entirely ridiculous. You laughed so hard that tears formed and began rolling down your face into your hair. Dean grinned stupidly, finding your laugh infectious. The way your muscles were spasming around him as you laughed felt really good and he started thrusting again, distracting you thoroughly from the hilarity of his statement. Laughter turned into gasping moans as he lowered himself onto his elbows and thrusted hard and deep.

"Well, fuck," you panted, his lips capturing yours again and again. "You're really good at fucking geese." It was Dean's turn to guffaw, his entire face lighting up in amusement and hips coming to a complete stop again. "Don't stop now, goose-fucker, or we'll never finish." You smirked, getting another round of throaty chuckles from him while he kissed your neck that went straight to your core. "Jesus, is there anything about you that's not sexy?"

Dean lifted his head at that, "You really don't wanna be around after I eat a bacon cheeseburger with extra onions." He was totally sincere, so much so that you just gaped at him. "But in the meantime," he ducked back down, taking a nipple into his mouth and you arched your back. "Wanna feel you cum again." He slid back up, kissed you deeply, and smirked down at you. Before you could take a breath, Dean had you on top of him; his cock never left you. You stared down at him, speechless. "That alright?" You nodded and he licked his thumb, pressing it against your clit as you began riding him. Dean grunted in approval, his other hand gripping your hip as he pounded up into you.

***

A loud knocking on the door several minutes after you'd both come had you shoving Dean away from you while trying to cover your nudity with the twisted sheets. The door swung open and Sam strode into the motel room, not even glancing your direction. "Y'all finished?"

Dean rolled his eyes and sat up, tossing a blanket corner over his lap. "Took you long enough," he retorted, reaching down to the floor for his shorts. Silently, he began handing you the clothes they'd let you borrow as he picked them up off the floor. You gave Dean a small smile in return, tugging on the shirt and sweatpants as quickly as you could.

“So, what about getting you home?" Sam asked and you froze. It wasn't something you'd discussed - not that you'd had time - but it was inevitable.

“I uh, I don't know where my car is," you said truthfully. By the time you'd been turned into a goose and escaped the witch's cage, your car had disappeared. "I guess I could just hotwire one," you trailed off, shrugging.

"Or we could give you a ride," Dean chimed in, tugging his jeans on and giving you a wink to allude to the fact he did just give you a ride.

“Gross," Sam frowned and you couldn't help but laugh. You and Dean finished dressing and then you slid into the bathroom; their lowered voices still making it through the thin door, although you couldn't make out exactly what they were saying. You stopped listening and flushed, washed up, and left to find them both looking at you expectantly.

"What? Is there something on my face?"

“No, uh, just, you're welcome to stay the night. We'll hit the road first thing," Sam clarified while Dean gave you a small half-grin. So they were taking you home after all. Did you really expect an invite to go with them after a tryst?

"Cool," you shrugged. "So, beer?"

***

The next day, you sat in the backseat of the Impala once more, all too aware of how often Dean's eyes flicked back to you in the rearview. When he stopped for gas and made Sam get out and pay, he turned around and hooked an arm over the back of the seat.

"You did good back there," he said after gazing at you for a minute. "Like, really good. You know your shit."

You shrugged one shoulder and glanced away from his intense stare. "And now I know that being in a goose's body won't slow me down much."

Dean's small grin widened and he dragged his lower lip through his teeth. "Let's keep in touch," he paused. "You know. For witchy problems and such."

You raised an eyebrow as you dragged your eyes back to his. "Yeah? Even though I called you a goose-fucker?"

The older Winchester's face split into a hearty laugh as he threw his head back. "Hey, I guess I earned that one out-right. Yeah. Yeah, let's definitely keep in touch." He reached down and produced a slip of paper that looked like it might've once been a restaurant receipt. On it was scribbled his phone number. "Text me soon's you get a phone. I'd be happy to help with any cases or expectations I haven't met, yet."

"Alright," you agreed, nodding, trying to bite back a smile. The rest of the ride was easier, knowing you had a link back to Dean should you ever need help with anything.  
They dropped you off at the camper well after dark and you climbed out of the car after saying your goodbyes. They left once you'd let yourself inside and shut the door. The following day, you got a new phone and your first text was to a 'DW' and all it said was "honk."


End file.
